The Truth About Kim and Ron
by Unheard Flipper
Summary: Have you ever wondered how Kim mastered sixteen forms of kung-fu in several years? Or how Kim and Ron are able to get rides on military cargo planes, and fighters? Or why countries depend on two teenagers to save the world? Heres my answer. AU. No Grad.
1. Chapter 1

Have you ever wondered how Kim mastered sixteen forms of kung-fu in several years? Or how Kim and Ron are able to get rides on military cargo planes, and jet fighters? Or why countries depend on two teenagers to save the world, when it would be so much easier to launch a military strike on the KP villains? Well here is my answer. Ignores Graduation. AU.

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The Truth About Kim and Ron

The laboratory was dark, and quiet. Just the way Chief security officer, Kevin Rodsen liked it. The only sounds came from the echoing foot steps and whistled tunes of his fellow security officers as they made their rounds. Rodsen himself was holed up in the monitor room, the overweight forty-six year old, had kicked his feet up on his desk, placed his hands behind his head, while he enjoyed the privacy of being off security tapes.

In other words, Rodsen was asleep. The other guards would often complain about how Rodsen confirmed the stereotypes that security guards were often branded with, but he didn't care. He had seniority, he was in charge. Besides, the lab was protected by a state of the art security system, nothing was getting in to the sensitive, and somewhat unethical research being done here.

Rodsen smiled contentedly as he shifted his large bulk into the chair, never noticing that one by one, his security guards were vanishing from the hallway patrols, not noticing that one by one the fuse boxes, that controlled the laser grids and silent alarms were going off line. Not noticing the pale green skinned woman, and the blue skinned man moving down the hall, right towards him.

Shego smiled, as she lifted a clawed finger to the monitor room's door. That she and Dr. D, had managed to make it this far without setting of the alarms, told her either that: A) there was no one monitoring the cameras, or B) Someone was inside, but not paying attention. Given her experience with security guards, it was most likely the latter.

Too bad this wasn't a real challenge. Shego had thought that since the Little Diablo incident, that labs would start beefing up security. Shego shrugged as she sent a small burst of heated plasma into the door's lock. Money was money, and Dr. Drakken always paid up, not always on time, mind you, but he still paid.

The door swung open. The small shot of plasma had cut through the bolt, rendering the lock useless. Again Shego smiled as she heard the faint sounds of snoring, coming from the room. Every lab had the lazy monitor; they just made these jobs too easy. Slowly Shego entered the darkened room, the only light coming from the faintly glowing TV monitors. With cat like stealth, Shego moved into the room, and slowly removed the security man's access card from his breast pocket.

Dr. Drakken smiled, as Shego applied pressure onto a nerve cluster, paralyzing the sleeping man for an hour or so. More then enough time for him to grab the newly developed Cybonic-Bio Enhancer. Now that the sleeping man was out cold Shego quickly sent bolts of plasma into the recording devices, effectively destroying any evidence that they were here.

"Come Shego, the Cybonic-Bio Enhancer awaits us!" Drakken gloated, "with this new device I will finally have a fool proof plan to take over the world!"

"Yeah, remind me again why we need the Cydorkic-Bio… Thingy anyway?"

It infuriated Drakken that his ill-tempered sidekick could be so flippant about his wonderful plans. Sure Kim Possible would often foil them, and her buffoonish sidekick, What's-His-Name cost him a fortune in new lairs, but he was due for a win, right?

Sighing ill-patiently Drakken decided to go through his most brilliant plan, once again.

"With the Cybonic-Bio Enhancer, once I modify it too bind to my syntho-goo instead of living tissue. I will be able to upgrade my syntho-drones with the new and improved syntho-goo. This goo's cybernetic neural system will receive several biological characteristic and upgrades, such as a strength boost, and quicker reflexes. The biggest one is that the drone's goo will receive enhanced plates, that will quickly heal any cut. So instead of melting, they will be able to keep fighting."

Shego shrugged at Drakken's ranting. She had heard it all before. Already she was

thinking of several ways Kimie could foil Operation 'Doomed to Fail Horribly.'

"Well this is gonna end badly Dr. D. Tell me should I add another notch into the 'you lose' column, or do you want to wait until the Princess foils the plot?"

With that Shego turned back down the darkened hallway, making her way to the prize, her employer so desperately sought. Leaving him to stay there gloating, until Kim got there, or to catch up. Secretly she hoped he would wait there to get caught, she needed a long vacation anyway.

Shego's hopes were dashed, when she heard Drakken's hasty foot steps, and loud whining catch up to her.

"Nghhhh, Shego, what have I told you about hurting with our words?"

Shego smirked at her boss, as he sulked. It was just too easy to push his buttons. The rest of the walk, down the barren hallways was silent. Shego's emerald eyes searched every doorway, every empty room, looking for any signs of movement, any sign of trouble. She was a professional after all. She prided herself on her stealth.

Drakken on the other hand was the complete opposite. His boots struck the ground heavily, the sound echoed throughout the halls. While his eyes were glazed over as he plotted out his 'brilliant' world conquest, or maybe he was dreaming about coco-moo, or peanut-butter stickies, Shego could never tell, he was whacked in her opinion.

Finally they reached the vault doors, where the Cybonic-Bio Enhancer lay. The solid metal doors took up much of the barren, grey walls. Quickly Shego slid the Chief Guards access card into the receptacle. The lights of the panel flashed green, and the doors slowly slid open.

The large vault was filled with cabinets containing sensitive research, strange devices, created for all kinds of measurements. Strange fluid like substances rested on metal shelving, and in the middle of the large vault, was the object of Drakken's desires. Resting on a podium in the middle of the room was a light blue, slightly pulsing liquid.

Shego slowly stepped into the vault, her head swiveling about, checking every nook and cranny. Nothing. Even then, Shego never let her guard down, as her boss, strode confidently up to the podium and reached out a small gloved hand to claim his prize, while Shego continued to glance around the obliviously empty room.

Noticing Shego's unease, made Drakken nervous. His sidekick was always cool and calm during these sort of missions. Well as cool and as calm, as you could get with a bad temper, and attitude problem.

"What's the matter Shego? You seem nervous."

Shego looked over her shoulder. "You said that thing can bind itself too living tissue, I'm just making sure that Kimmie's pet Buffoon don't show up and accidentally knock it over.

I don't want that stuff on me."

"Kim Possible doesn't even know we're here, and her computer nerd, can't find us because you destroyed the tapes. Besides this is perfectly safe, even if it does bind to your nervous system, it only takes a slight sonic pulse to remove it."

The reassurances of the self proclaimed mad scientist, did nothing to calm her.

Carefully, Drakken reached out his hand again, and grasped the slightly pulsing beaker. Lifting it up from its podium, Drakken could not help himself, as a shiver of joy, tingled down his spine. His contacts had been right as always.

With Drakken's prize safe in his hands, he let out his trademark evil laugh, and went it to full rant mode.

"Mwhahahahahaha, now with the Cybonic-Bio Enhancer in my grasp, their will be no stopping my never ending hordes of syntho-drones! First I will conquer Canada, then the States, and finally the world! Mwhahahahahaha!"

So intent on his rant he never noticed Shego leave the vault, nor did he notice the small, cylinder shaped object thrown at him, until it landed at his feet.

"What the fu…?" Was all Drakken was able to get out, before the object exploded with a brilliant flash, and a deafening bang.

Blood pounded in Drakken's ears, as he stumbled blindly about. The liquid in his hands quite forgotten as he let it drop. The ringing in his ears started to ease up, and the pain in his eyes vanished as he blinked rapidly. Turning around he only managed to get a glimpse of a figure, clad in BDU, and a balaclava, before the figure slammed a rifle butt into the back of his head.

The ringing in his ears returned with a vengeance, as Drakken fell limp to the floor. Distantly he could feel his hands being roughly grabbed by small, heavily, gloved hands and bound tightly, with flexi cuffs. Slowly his vision narrowed, and he mercifully collapsed into the sweet, unfeeling blackness of unconsciousness.

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Slowly, the room faded back into clarity. Drakken unfortunately, returned to the walking world, with a volley of puke.

"Ach, that's just great, Drakken puke on mah kilt."

Drakken knew that voice.

"Vhat are you complaining about, dumkoff. Vhen you avoke you PUKED ON MY BOOTS!"

Drakken knew that voice, as well.

Slowly he opened his eyes and glanced around. The first thing he noticed was that he was shackled to a chair. Both his hands, and his feet were locked tightly in handcuffs and shackles. The uncomfortable chair itself was bolted, to the ground. A large steel table stood in the middle of the small dimly lit room, while a ceiling fan, span slowly around.

Turning his head around, Drakken saw his cellmates. Duff Killigan, was like wise chained to an unmoving chair. A small puddle of puke dripped from his plaid kilt.

Killigan's face was a mixture of anger and disgust, as he glared at Drakken.

Beside Killigan, also chained and shackled, was a very angry Professor Dementor. His helmet had been removed, showing off a head of dirty, and messy brown hair, small ears, and a crooked nose. His dark red coat, was wrinkled and covered in sweat stains. His blearily eyes, poor state of dress, and lack of hygiene showed that he had been here for a couple of days at least.

"Vell now at least I have someone of moderate intelligence TO DISCUSS OUR SITUATION VITH!"

Drakken immediately shut his eyes, in an attempt to stop the pain that shot through his head. "Do you always have to yell you moron?"

"I just can't help it. It's the vay my mother raised me. Speaking of vhich I hope I get mein phone call, she alvays gets upset vhen I don't jingle."

"Don't be daff man." Killigan broke into their conversation, "Do yah really expect to get a phone call?"

Both Drakken and Dementor turned to look at the middle man.

"Vhat do you mean, Killigan? Vhy vouldn't ve get our phone call? Ve have been arrested, ja?"

Drakken nodded his head in agreement. "They have to give us our phone call, and our attorneys. And when Hank Perkins hears how I've been treated, he will sue them for everything they've got!"

"Vait a minute, vait a minute, Herr Perkins is your attorney as vell? He never told me this. I vas of the thinking that you had HIM AS AN TEMP!"

Drakken shrugged. "I did originally hire him as an evil temp. But then he got me that sweet deal with the DA, only a few years in a minimum security prison. I was out of there with in a few days thanks to Shego."

"Oh ja? Just vhere is the Fraulein? I've noticed that zhey brought you in by yourself."

"I was? Hmmm, maybe she managed to escape. If I can just get my phone call…"

"Are yah not listenin' laddie? We ain't gettin' a phone call. These are not regular bobbies. Ah severally doubt that we would be arrested like that."

"How were you arrested Killigan?" Drakken couldn't help it; he wanted to know how the others had arrived.

Killigan closed his eyes for a moment before answering. "Ah was in mah castle, polishing mah clubs, in preparation for a golfin' tournament Ah was goin' to try and hold ransom. Next thing Ah know, one of mah windows shatters, and some large soldier boy, with an AK, throws me to the ground and ties me up. No warrant, no warnin', no nothin'. Ah demand mah rights, an' he smacks me with the butt o' his rifle. Ah wake up an' Ah'm sittin' by this idiot."

"Vatch who you are calling an idiot, you vhinny Englander!"

"Ah ain't English, yah kraut bastard! Ah'm Scottish!"

"Dumkoff!"

"Midget!"

"Knock it off the both of you! You're acting like children!"

"Oh you're one teh talk, laddie buck!" Killigan shot at Drakken, "Ah've seen yah actin' like a little baby around that lass of yours."

Drakken decided to let that go. He knew he wasn't going to get anywhere arguing with the Scotsman. "How about you Dementor? How did you get here?"

There was a jingling of chains, as Dementor shifted uneasily in his chair. "It vas three days ago. I vas in my lair, planning another doomsday device povered, by the Pan-Dimensional-Vortex-Inducer, quite an accomplishment I must say, the ray gun was designed to open a vorm hole anyvhere on the map. The vorld vould have fallen so easily to me PROFESSOR…"

Before Dementor could go on ranting Drakken cut him off. "Okay! Okay! We get it. Get on with the story would you!"

"Oh, ja. Sorry about zhat. Vhere vas I? Ah, vell zhen suddenly the lights of mein lair vent out, I tried to calling out to mein henchmen, but zhey didn't answer. Suddenly zhere vas a blinding flash and a large pain to the back of my head. Vhen I voke up, I vas here in zhese chains."

Drakken was silent for a moment as he pondered these developments. His two cellmates watched him, as the moments slowly ticked by. "What about you laddie? How'd they get you?"

Drakken thought back to… earlier that day? Yesterday? He had no idea. "I had gotten word from one of my contacts, that a military research lab had developed a cybernetic bio enhancer fluid. I had planned on stealing it and then modifying the nanobots contained in the solution to adept to my syntho-goo. Everything had gone as planned, Shego had even erased the security footage, so that by the time, Kim Possible's computer nerd had found out about the robbery, it would be too late.

"We had entered the vault everything was going as planned, no personal could be seen, and Shego had taken them out before hand. I picked up the vial, when I was blinded and deafened by a flash, and a loud bang."

"Did yah see anythin' else, anythin' unusual?"

Drakken thought for a moment. "Yeah actually I did. Shego was acting really nervous. Almost like she was excited… you don't think?"

"That she betrayed you? I'm sorry that I have to be the one to break it to you, Lipsky, but she did." A new voice answered.

The large steel door pushed open as two figures, one short, the other several inches taller, walked in.

The short one was a woman in her mid-twenties standing only around five-nine. She had long red hair, tied up neatly into a bun at the top of her head; hard green eyes stared at them, as though judging them, weighing their souls. In her gloved hands she carried three large folders. She wore a light Kevlar vest over top a desert digi-camo BDU. The three's eyes however were dragged to the M4 assault rifle strapped to her back, and the pistol strapped to the back of her thigh. She was attractive, but dangerous. A black widow.

The woman's partner was a man of a slight build, and of medium height, around six-feet. His hair was tucked beneath a helmet; while brown eyes bored into the three chained men, as though daring them to attempt anything. A heavy Kevlar vest covered a BDU of a tiger stripe pattern of greens, browns and black. Unlike his partner though he carried his Kalashnikov-74, cradled in his arms while the stock of a Dragunov sniper rifle could be seen poking over his shoulder. Like his partner, his service pistol was strapped to his thigh.

The three men, Killigan, Drakken, and Dementor, watched in silence as the woman sat at the table in front of them, while the man leaned into a corner. It seemed neither the man nor the woman were interested in conversation, as the woman flipped absently through one of the folders while the men adjusted the sighting on his rifle. But there was something familiar about the woman, something that none of them could put their fingers on.

Finally Drakken spoke up. "Ah, miss…" Nothing, the woman ignored the blue skinned mad doctor. "Ah excuse me sir…" The man ignored him too, seemingly more interested in the sighting of his AK then the villain.

Killigan, being the short fused Scot that he was, exploded like one of his trade mark golf balls. "Alright lassie! Ah want tah know where we are, who yah are and why we're here!"

The woman glanced up at the angry Scotsman. "Duff Killigan: Age: thirty-five, Weight: one-hundred ninety three pounds. Born in Glasgow Scotland. Won over a dozen golfing tournaments before being banned from play for…un-sportsman like conduct. Went underground, for three years before attempting to blow up over a dozen golf courses. Arrested by Global Justice before being able to carry out the plot. Now wanted in close to a dozen countries for terrorism, arm possession, disregard for human life, and vandalism."

Killigan's face was one of disbelief. His entire criminal career right from the beginning to now was there. Even the stuff that he tried to keep quiet.

The woman went on, this time turning to Dementor. "Professor Hans Demenz, AKA Professor Dementor. Age: Thirty-seven. Weight: One-hundred-ninety pounds. Born in Munich Germany. Graduated from the Humboldt University of Berlin with a PHD in Chemistry and Physics. Went rogue after being teased relentlessly of your height, temper, and Napoleon complex. Wanted by well over a dozen countries for armed robbery, attempted coups, extortion, and treason."

Like Killigan before him, Dementor's jaw dropped, as the woman calmly spoke of his achievements as though they were beneath her notice.

The red haired woman turned to Drakken, this time, a smirk playing on her lips. "Finally we have Andrew Theodore P. Lipsky, AKA: Dr Drakken. Age: Forty six. Weight: One hundred and seventy-seven pounds. Born in Middleton Colorado, dropped out of collage do to the teasing of your peers, you vanished and went underground, building and selling weapons for over a dozen years. These funds helped jumpstart your villain career, when you turned thirty-seven. During this time, you created a rivalry with Demenz, and met your assistant, Shelia Gogh, AKA: Shego. You are wanted in over a dozen countries for multiple accounts of armed robbery, assault, breaking and entering, extortion, and several attempted coups of sovereign governments."

The man in the corner never looked up, but snorted several times as the man's many failures were read off. Drakken was furious; his life time achievements were being mocked by this, this, buffoon.

"Alright lady, enough with the games! And you in the corner shut up. I'd like to see try and take over the world with Kim Possible always sticking her nose…" That's when it hit him, he knew the woman.

"IMPOSSIBLE! IT CAN'T BE YOU!"

The man in the corner spoke up; his heavy sounding English and Russian accent making him seem so much more threatening. "Close, very close Lipsky. Her name es actually Kim Possible."

Kim smiled as she saw the looks of shock pass over the three prisoner's faces. She leaned back as the stunned silence filled the room.

"Zhere is no way you can be Fraulein Possible! She is seventeen years old! A teenager! You are older at least in your mid-twenties!"

The two guards roared with laughter. "I told you Lieutenant, looks likes you owe me a drink later."

Kim looked up at the man fondly. The prisoners could see the enormous affection; she had for the strange man. "Don't worry Roman; you will get you vodka on me."

"Booyah!"

Kim turned back to Dementor. "Demenz, you're a genius, think about it. Think of all that I've done."

Dementor went quite as he thought about what she had said. Duff Killigan had been quiet for several minutes, readily believing what the woman had said, already having put it together.

Drakken however, snorted loudly. "Nice try, but you're not fooling me."

Kim sighed as she shared a look with Roman. "You want to explain it to him or should I?"

The man shook his head. "Don't worry KP I've got it."

Roman turned to Drakken. "Kim Possible, as you know, es a black belt in sixteen forms of kung-fu. Considering that et takes anywhere from a year or two to earn a black belt, she would have to do nothing but training, since she was six years old, and even then Kim would be two or three forms behind.

"You also seem to forget were we've been. Do you honestly believe that military cargo planes, and fighter jets, would allow us to catch rides with them just because they owed Kim a favour? Or that countries, like Cambodia, and Burma, would allow ordinary citizens into their countries?"

Kim nodded as Drakken began to ponder these facts. She continued where Roman left off. "Or did you believe that child services wouldn't come down on somebody who allowed their child to travel around the world, fighting bad guys and saving the world? That's child endangerment.

"And even if all that isn't true, do you honestly believe that countries would relay on a teenaged girl, when it would be so much more reliable just to hit your lairs with a cruise missile? Or an artillery barrage? Or just a plain and simple sniper team to pick you off?"

That got him. Drakken's mouth fell open, he should have known. As a threat to world security he should have been dead over a dozen times, but he was still alive. Why? It didn't make any sense.

Kim saw his look, and smiled. "So I was never really close to taking over the world?"

Kim shook her head. "You came close once. The Little Diablos. Me and Stopblaski here, well you know him better as Ron Stoppable-"

"Who?"

Kim and the man in the corner shared a look. Not this again. "You know Ron Stoppable, my partner?"

The three man looked at her in confusion. Kim and Roman sighed. Standing straight Roman tapped his belt twice. His pants dropped to the floor.

"Oh him."

"Aye, Ah thought recognized the laddie."

"Ja, now that you mention it he looks familiar"

Kim rolled her eyes as Roman pulled his pants up. "Anyway, our orders were if we couldn't stop you, we were to kill you. Simple as that."

The three men's eyes widened in suspire. Kim Possible didn't kill. She was a hero, heroes don't kill people. They always found another way.

"Who are you people? What are you talking about orders, and killing people. How did you manage to fool everyone of your age?" Drakken was panting heavily. The other two prisoners nodded.

Kim and Roman shared another look, one that asked if they should go on, if they should tell the condemned men what Kim and Roman were apart of. Roman answered with a nod of his head. Kim returned the nod as she turned to the prisoners

"The world is changing, as it always has. But it's not changing for the better. Rebels in Africa are killing innocent people, while arm-dealers and diamond smugglers are profiting off the bloodshed. Petty dictators suppress their people, while increasing their wealth by selling weapons to terrorists."

Roman broke in. "They sell to the Chechens Rebels en Russia. To Al-Qaeda, Hezbollah, Hamas, and other insurgents en the Middle-East. They sell to them to militants and separatists en the Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region en China. Drug Lords en Columbia, and other South-American purchase weapons, and ammunition to keep their plantations guarded and profitable. En other words the world has gone to shit."

Kim shook her head. "There are men in governments ignoring this, trying to imagine that all is fine, that all will be fine, while others allow despicable things to happen in the name of profit and free enterprise." Kim fell silent for a minute, allowing memories to wash over her. "We have tried dealing with these petty tyrants, with these dictators, and other vile people. Computer guided bombs, artillery strikes, sometimes a just a bullet planted between their shoulder blades. They all get the same result. Six months of peace before someone else moves in.

"Their weeds, they always come back. Unless you take out the root of the problem. Instead of removing the vine, you kill the root. The ones who supply them with their weapons. The ones who sell their diamonds, and other valuables. To kill the snake, you don't remove the head, you cut the body off. You cut the bastards from their support."

Kim's eyes hardened. "This is where you guys come in. Who better to have contacts with in the underworld, then men trying to take over the world? You need lairs in countries that play loose with international law, specialized equipment, funds, henchmen, all sorts of things you can't require legally.

"Demenz, you were our link to HenchCo. Thanks to you, we were able to identify Jack Hench, as the notorious arms-dealer and the Private Mercenary Company Commander: The King Cobra. Killigan, you helped supply us with numerous names of diamond smugglers, arms dealers, from all over the world. While you Drakken, led us to find several corrupt governments, and aids, hell, even secretaries and ministers with in the United States Government.

"But, the UN, NATO, the EU, would have ignored this. Satisfied to trim the weeds once in a great while, but it wasn't really solving anything. The nations of the Security Council felt that it was fine to bicker, and argue about what needed to be done."

Kim let this sink in for a moment. The would-be world rulers and the golfing terrorist were silent, their accomplishments, and their plans, were nothing more then bait to catch the real criminals.

"It wasn't until a good friend, and financial backer of the British and American ambassadors, used his influence to arrange a meeting with the Security Council to discuss this problem. The man had actually lost his wife, when Somalian pirates attacked a cruise ship, leaving him and his only son devastated. The man approached the UN with a plan to deal with these dictators, rebels, pirates, and terrorists. With the number of Super Villains on the rise, they were going to need equipment, supplies, lairs."

"Who vas dis backer, who planned zhis out? Vhen I find him I WILL MAKE HIM PAY!"

"The backer was actually Senor Senior Senior."

"VHAT! Zhat is impossible; he is a villain like us."

Kim laughed. "No, that was his cover. He wanted to be in on it too, but Barkin forbade him. So to get back at the Lt. Col. Roman here suggested that he could turn his island into a training ground. Buying up illegal tech, and securing his island just in case anyone

found out about Senior playing with the good guys. He even had Shelia train Junior to defend himself, and to make sure, me and Roman were staying on our toes."

Kim paused for a moment, while Roman continued. "Et was Senior's idea, have two teams, one undercover, to keep you from succeeding en your plans. Who better to do that than a teenaged heroine and her goofy sidekick? No one would suspect them of being military commandos. While the other team sought out your contacts. Et was surprising that the only ambassador to agree to this plan was the French. The others all made excuses about costs, and who would be in charge. Senior finally sealed the deal when he told the Security Council that he would pay for the cost of the two teams, supply the necessary equipment, and provide the man in charge of the whole enchilada."

Noticing the looks of disbelief on her prisoner's faces, Kim smirked. "It's actually not that difficult to make someone who's twenty look fourteen. Especially when they don't have…" Kim held out her hands a little ways from her breasts for emphasis. The three chained men snickered, as Kim shot them an ill tempered glare, before continuing.

"Anyway Senior finally decided on one Lieutenant Colonel Barkin, to lead and chose the team mates. From the States he chose six CIA agents, a Ranger, and me. From Russia, he picked Roman here, and seven other soldiers from a previously selected list of twelve Spetsnaz GRU. The UK loaned two MI6 intelligence agents including Dr. Wade Load."

Noticing the confused looks, Kim quickly explained that Wade had immigrated to Britain when he was nine. MI6 then recruited him after he had hacked into their database.

"China was the most stubborn; they would only allow their liaison to GJ to become involved, Wilung Du."

"Ach, yah mean that arrogant little pansy, yah had with yah, when we firs' met?"

Kim nodded in confirmation. "Anyway, Barkin with his teaching degree, joined Middleton High School as a Vice-principal, I moved back in with my parents, Roman Ivanovich Stopblaski became Ronald Stoppable. We would use the detentions that Barkin gave us, to brief and debrief…"

"Barkin never liked me. Something about a funny look I gave him en Beirut."

"While Captain Shelia Gogh gave us info on you, Lipsky."

The three prisoners sat in stunned silence. Everything had been planned, and they had acted their part. Allowing these, these, Do-gooders, to get slowly pick apart their vast networks of contacts, spies, and suppliers. Lipsky sobbed quietly. He had cared for Shego, or Shelia, as much as she got on his nerves with her sarcastic remarks, and cynical attitude. He had believed that she had generally cared for him too, but to learn it was all an act…

The other two prisoners watched in pity as Lipsky's shoulders shuddered. They had respected the glamorous henchwoman for her apparent ruthlessness.

"So vere the fights between you and Fraulein Gogh faked?" Demenz asked his captor.

The two soldiers laughed. "No. Those fights were real, they had to be. One of the reasons why Barkin selected me and Gogh was because we hated each other."

"Really? Ah always thought there was somethin' between teh two of yah."

The stainless steel door burst open as Captain Sheila Gogh pushed angrily into the room. The two mad scientists and the mad golfer couldn't believe that this woman was once Shego. Her long raven black hair, was cut shorter then they remembered, and done up tightly into a bun. Her pale green skin was gone, showing of a light tanned face. Instead of the normal green and black, jump suite, Shelia, like Kim, wore a desert digi-camo BDU, and a light Kevlar vest, a M4 was strapped across her back, and her service pistol was holstered on her shoulder.

Without so much as a glance at Kim, Roman, or Lipsky, Sheila marched up to Killigan, and punched him across the mouth. Killigan's head snapped to the side, as spittle, blood, and even a tooth flew from his mouth.

"Oh yeah, I'm attracted to that flat-chest little boy alright. That's why I try to kill her any chance I get, right Pumpkin?"

Kim glared at the snickering form of Roman. With that being said Shelia punched Killigan again, and marched out.

"Remind me never to get on her bad side." Roman said aloud, to no one in particular. "I had enough of Gogh, and Kim trying to kill me with the Moodulator incident."

Kim smiled at that particular mission. When she actually found that she did have a crush on the goofy Spetsnaz GRU officer.

"That's something I want to know. What happened to Cyrus Bortel? He seemed to have vanished after the incident with the Moodulators?" Drakken asked the sobs still noticeable in his wavering voice.

Kim shot another glare at Roman, who nervously rubbed the back of his neck with a gloved hand. "When I sent my report to my superiors' en Moscow, they demanded that Dr. Bortel be… removed… and any research turned over to them. I took the research, and 'removed' the good doctor."

The three men visibly paled as they glanced at the Dragunov. Roman caught their looks and shook his head in amusement. "_Nyet, nyet_. He es not dead, _da_. I only eliminate people who have become problems for innocent people. I…ah… had Wade falsify his records. He es enjoying a single cell en a maximum security prison right now."

Roman's eyes hardened as he continued. "Don't be fooled though. I have eliminated several of your villainous comrades, under orders of Barkin of course."

The three men gulped, as they looked at him expectantly. Roman held up several fingers. "Fiske's servant Bates, Fukushima, Chester Yapsby, and The Mathter, after Mr. Stoppable defeated him."

Kim nodded. "Those men were insane, and would only allow more destruction and harm to innocent civilians. Not to mention they supplied their own equipment. There was no value in keeping them alive."

"Have… have you killed anyone lassie?"

"Several, under Lt. Colonel Barkin's orders."

"Who?"

Kim sighed; she knew this part of the conversation was going to happen. "Adrena Lynn, Several members of the terrorist group Knights of Rodigan, Jackie Oakes, Aviarus, and Electronique. Again people who willfully endangered innocent people. Plus they couldn't really help our investigation either."

"Vhat about DNAmy, vhy is she no here?"

"Yamanouchi dealt with her after she kidnapped their Master Sensei. She really is nothing more then a fine pelt rug now." Kim shrugged nonchalantly.

The three men shuddered again. How easily she spoke of killing. It was clear to them that Kim was the soldier she said she was. But there were still several things that didn't add up.

"Vhat about you and the sidekick? I thought that you HAD BEEN FRIENDS SINCE PRESCHOOL!" Demenz calmed down for a moment. "So how could that be if he's an Ivan? You were half way across the world."

Kim looked down for a moment, as unpleasant memories, washed over her. "That was not a lie. Ronald Stoppable was indeed my best friend until he was killed. Ron and his family were on a vacation to Israel. A suicide bomber targeted the café where they were eating. A piece of brick, smashed into his head, killing him instantly.

"That's part of the reason why I joined the Marine Force Recon, and why I volunteered for this assignment."

"The Stoppables are related to me, Dean Stoppable es my older cousin. He understands why we have to do this. He understood why I had to take his son's name. He understands that no parent should have to bury their child. To take this assignment I had to take several weeks of accent coaching, and even then I still screw up words. But it was worth it, I think having me there helped them heal, and little Hannah will certainly take up where I left off. Although I was a little put out when I had to take the attic room."

"A little put out, Roman?"

Roman shrugged, as he smiled a goofy smile that reminded her so much of the original Ron. They were both, goofy, sweet, and loyal. She smiled at their affection for Tex-Mex food from Buenos Nacho, and their similar table manners.

"What about when the Buffoon turned evil? What happened there?"

Both Kim and Roman's faces turned grim. Kim looked at Roman, as he nodded his consent to tell the story.

"We had infiltrated the HenchCo Villain convention to try and get into contact with Shelia, about several large orders you had placed. Unfortunately you were using the experimental Attitudinator. We couldn't allow that, if you became too evil, we knew that it would endanger innocent lives. Of course with you in such a close we couldn't afford to break her cover."

Roman nodded in agreement with her as he took up the story. "Anyway you know what happened. When Kim informed Barkin of what happened, he gave her three days to find away to fix it, or Shelia, or Kim would have to kill me, we couldn't afford one of us going rouge." Roman smirked at Drakken, "that es also why Shelia ditched you, so she could keep an eye on me in case I did anything drastic."

"Aye, and what about tha' disgustin' hairless rat o' yours laddie?"

Roman shot a glare at Killigan, as a small pink rodent, climbed quickly out of one of

Roman's cargo pockets, and perched on his shoulder. The naked mole rat joined his human in glaring down at the mad Scotsman.

"His name es Rufus, and he es a naked mole rat, both him and me would appreciate it, if you didn't diss the Rufus."

The angry pink rodent, made his displeasure known well as he squeaked and chattered, shaking a small fist. Roman patted him on the head. "Easy, easy _Rufusika_, there es no need for such language."

Roman turned back to the three men. "Rufus belonged to Ron, but was turned over to Kim's care when Ron was killed. I met him seven years later and we just bonded, I guess et was our love of Buenos Nacho." Both Rufus and Roman smiled dreamily, "I will miss them both when I return to Mother Russia."

Kim looked disheartened at the mere thought of Roman returning to Russia. "You know Lipsky, I have to thank you. If it wasn't for Erik and your taking over the world Diablo plot I would have never noticed Roman."

Lipsky's jaw dropped as he remembered that he had designed Erik to look and act like a sixteen year old male. Not to mention, that he had seen Kim with another teenaged boy, when he had infected her with the vanishing pollen. Kim for her part merely smiled at his flabbergasted expression.

"I was sixteen again and was told to keep my cover no matter what. Besides do you know how hard it is to find a man when they know you could roundhouse kick them out a window? Or snap their neck like a twig? It was just a little bit of enjoyment I got out of this assignment, where I could forget that I was Lieutenant Kim Possible of the Marine Force Recon, and I could be just Kim again."

"Und das super suit?" Demenz had shown much interest in the advanced technology.

"Experimental body armour, developed by the British. It needed a live fire test to find any bugs in the neural system, and self healing nanites. Wade had to call in over a dozen favours in order to get that technology. Fortunately, we discovered many of the flaws, unfortunately, there were so many that the Brits scraped the project."

Demenz seemed to deflate at the news. Roman noticed this. "Don't get any ideas professor. We are no longer tolerating your activities. You are all going away for a long time and if you try to escape this, we will have no choice but to kill you."

Kim nodded. "You know its partly thanks to you. Now maybe the world will change for the better, now that the parasites feeding of the war and bloodshed, can be dealt with. The rebels, terrorists, insurgents, militants will loose their weapons and their funds, and give us a chance to build a new future, a better future. One where a girl will not have to face rape and murder because her grandfather's father committed a crime against another tribe. One where a man won't be killed because he is of Jewish decent.

"Where you failed at conquering the world, you will have succeeded in helping give this world a chance to work for the better." Kim's smile was one of irony, "To bad you'll never get out of prison to see it."

With that the two soldiers left the interrogation room, leaving the three men to their fate. Boot strikes echoed in the empty hall as 1st Lieutenant Kim Possible, and Junior Lieutenant Roman Stopblaski made their way to the briefing hall, for their final debrief. Both their shoulders sagged; as though the effects of a long hard day finally caught up to them.

Kim suddenly grabbed Roman and pushed him up against the hall's cement wall. Before he could ask her why, she pressed her soft lips to his, in a passionate, love filled kiss. Roman's rifle fell on its strap as he let go and brought his arms around her, pulling Kim closer to him.

The need for air soon separated the two. Her bright emerald green eyes stared into his warm brown ones.

"Do you really have to go?" Kim asked him

Roman's expression changed from one of joyous bliss to a look of forlorn "_Da, moy lyoubf_. Mother Russia still needs me, at least for another year." He smiled suddenly, "I will return, Kimika. This country has been good to me. Maybe I will open that restaurant I have been planning. Just promise you'll wait for me."

Kim smiled in joy as his fingers traced her face. "Of course I will wait for you. Now stop talking, we have three days of leave and this is how I plan to spend them." With that Kim shared another passionate kiss. A kiss filled with the promise, that he would enjoy their small amount of leave, before they parted.

* * *

Well how's that? It just came to me as I was re-watching Monkey Fist Strikes. So as always leave a review and I'll try to get back to you. This will also be the last thing I post for a while, as my wedding is next week! So wish me luck and I hope you enjoy this story while I'm gone.


	2. A Sitch in Beirut

**A Sitch In Beirut.**

If there was one thing about this job that Second Lieutenant Kimberly Ann Possible of the United States Marine Force Recon hated, it was most definitely the waiting. The thick tension and knowing of that in just two days, she and the two dozen marines accompanying her would hit the proverbial beaches facing only god knows what in resistance was quickly fraying the already wafer thin string of patience that she usually had within her.

Well, that was not _completely_ true.

Military Intelligence had roughly estimated that there would only be one platoon of irregular militants, armed with an assortment of cheaply acquired Russian _Avtomat Kalashnikova 47 (AK-47) _assault rifles and _Ruchnoy_ _Protivotankovyy_ _Granatomyot_ (RPG-7 grenade launchers) standing guard over the mission's objectives. It had not been necessary to mention within the mission briefing that this was evidently to make sure that the so called 'Imperialist enemies of Allah' (e.g., the Americans and their Coalition allies) could not do anything to disrupt their most 'noble' and 'sacred' mission.

Upon receiving the logistical information that had detailed the expected strength of the dug in irregulars, the CO (Commanding Officer) of the mission had immediately requested that his command be issued with the (some would say somewhat excessive) ammunition and supplies that would be required in order to continue both an instinctively expected long and drawn out fire fight. The reasoning had been deeply rooted within previously well and truly learned experiences: "just in case."

Major Steven Barkin had been on the receiving end of Intel FUBAR's many times before within the past, and he was not about to allow some simple mistake nor any misinformation to cost both him and his men anymore than what was absolutely necessary.

Of course, those requests had -at first- been near enough automatically denied for apparently being too ridiculous/excessive in nature.

'_The source of the Intel is reliable. Estimated enemy strength is no more than one platoon. Troops will be outfitted as such." _

Kim snorted. "_Military Intelligence,"_ she thought to herself bitterly, "_the biggest oxymoron in the history of man."_

Barkin however, had not so easily been denied.

Kim did not know what either Barkin had said or done, or what favors that he had called in, but a single day before their unit was to ship out for Israel, Barkin had received a message that the request for the extra supplies (previously thought of by the higher echelons of the command structure as simply being too excessive in nature) had been approved.

Now, after almost four solid months of multiple training sessions, briefings, live exercises and planning, the unit had been deemed ready for action. A long and fairly uncomfortable eighteen hour flight had landed the tense team within the bustling metropolis of Tel Aviv, Israel's capital city. After a quick rest period at an Israeli military base, the troops had then been taken to Haifa, where they had quietly boarded the _INS Eilat._ The _Eilat _hadthen -in turn- set sail out into the dark and choppy blue waters of the expansive Mediterranean sea.

Four months ago, the CIA had received vital information regarding one of the Al-Qaeda terrorist organization's leaders in Pakistan: a cold and calculating man named Muhammad al-Jameel. Apparently, he was soon covertly traveling to Lebanon in order to complete an arms transaction involving a near uncountable amount of old Soviet era weapons for his parent organization: this included numerous mobile rocket launcher vehicles, hundreds of now aging guns of varying Soviet design, and -of which was both the most important and the most concerning fact of all- weapons grade uranium.

The providers of the aforementioned information did, however, cause a few eyebrows to rise back at Washington: the Russian Federal Security Service was not known for the sharing of such delicate information like this unless there was something positive to gain from it within Russia's favor.

Which, at least in this specific situation, there most definitely was.

Colonel Sergey Dmitrevich Patolnokov had recently decided that his pay-grade was much too low for such a high ranking man of his standard, especially with the fairly important duties that he had to perform in Russia's name.

Thus, he had hatched a most dastardly plan in order to supplement his fairly meager income.

The plan was simple: secretly sell the weapons and equipment from the storage dumps and arms depots under his control/command to whom ever would pay him, even if the buyers were the enemies of Russia. Needless to say, weapons are always a profit making commodity. Unfortunately for him, he had not counted upon several patriotic soldiers and officers under his command to rat him out to his superiors, even if he had offered them/promised them a (fairly small, mind) cut of both the potential and the eventual profits in order to buy their silence and/or loyalty.

The Colonel had quickly found out that the jig was up: how he actually found out, no one yet knew, and thus he had high tailed it out of Russia before he could be arrested or...taken care of. Unfortunately, the colonel took with him some high priced and very dangerous goodies with him: goodies that made the Russians all the more eager to catch Patolnokov, and either drag him kicking and screaming back to Russia in chains or -more likely given the Russian's history with traitors- riddled with bullets and then dragged home inside of a blood soaked body bag. This also made them eager enough to resort to fairly...unorthodox methods not usually considered by them...such as giving the intelligence to the United States.

The Russians had given the United States this information at the price of the Colonel: they wanted him, and they wanted him badly. The United States _had_ promised the Russians that Patolnokov would be immediately turned over to them in exchange for the information, but the Russian High Command was adamant: they wanted their own troops to take Patolnokov, and then bring him back to Russia in chains. After a week of arguing and haggling over the entire issue, the upper echelons in command back inside of the United States relented, and the strike force assembled for the mission would be a Joint Task Force of both the United State Marine Force Recon...and the Russian Spetsnaz special forces.

This was something that neither Barkin, Kim or the other marines were pleased to hear about.

Kim sighed at the whole, FUBAR'd situation: they were the Marines, God damn it! If there was an enemy in the need of a righteous ass kicking, it would be the Corps which would deliver that righteous left boot up into the ass. Ooo-Rah!

They did not need some god damn, vodka swilling Russki to back them up or even babysit them!

Kim straightened herself up, cracking both her neck and her shoulders as she did so, from the rail that she had been leaning upon. She was overlooking the dark and endless blue sea when she reached into her pocket. Kim sighed once again, mostly at her own lack of self control when it came to these specific vices. She knew that it was both a bad and a disgusting habit, but upon such a tense mission such as this, only three things really worked upon calming the nerves: burning alcohol, addictive nicotine or wild and animalistic sex. Barkin's orders prevented the use of the first option, and Kim was not -understandably as she was the only woman currently aboard this rickety tub- simply willing to just jump into a closet with a poor and accosted victim for what would essentially be a quick and brutal five minute 'workout'. The sheer amount of Israeli sailors that were also aboard further complicated that potential matter.

Thus, the only viable option left was cigarettes.

Whilst she exhaled cancer inducing smoke, Kim could not help but wonder what her brain surgeon mother would have thought of if she knew that her eldest daughter was currently puffing away upon a cigarette.

Kim could not help but imagine the ensuing scene.

As she shuddered at the sharp yet imaginary tongue lashing that she would of gotten from her mother had she knew, Kim leaned back over the rail and her emerald green eyes once again slid over to view the majestic Mediterranean sea in front of her.

"_Oh well"_ Kim thought as she took yet another drag, "_what mom doesn't know, won't hurt her... or me."_

What Kim found odd however, was that it actually saddened her that it would be most likely that her mother would never find out about her smoking vice. Her mother was always busy now with her job as the chief neurosurgeon at the Middleton Memorial Hospital, and having twin, hyperactive ten year-old geniuses at home consumed what remained of her free time. Her father was also often away from home as he worked as the chief researcher at the Middleton Space Center.

Kim herself rarely spent time at her own and tiny, one bedroom apartment, much less more any time at her parents home. She did, however often call, write and email them: it still saddened her that the last time that she had spent time with her family was nearly an entire year ago now, at Christmas time. Since then, Kim had been assigned to hunt down the Taliban insurgents lurking and ambushing from within the mountains of Afghanistan and Iraq. She could not complain though: she had signed up knowing full well what would be expected of her and Kim had relished the challenge that the job was bringing her upon a daily basis.

But now was not the time to be contemplating upon what she was missing back home: those thoughts could distract you, and once you are distracted, you are dead. Kim took one last and final drag of her cigarette, slowly savoring the burning and sharp sensation as she did so, before she casually flicked the glowing butt deep into the deep waters of the sea. She cast one last look down upon the dark waters which now sparkled inside of the glow of dying sun, before she turned around...and almost walked dead straight into her commanding officer, Major Barkin, just as he turned the corner.

Major Steve Barkin was an imposing man: six foot six and two-hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle, his dark brown hair cut had been both carefully and methodically cut close to the scalp and into a traditional crew cut style. He gave off an aura of determination, authority and a cold blooded ruthlessness to those of which whom would harm either his country or the men under his command. If there was such a man out there who was the very embodiment of the spirit of the 'Corps, it was Major Steve Barkin.

Like the rest of his unit, Barkin was not dressed in standard issue. This mission was to be conducted secretly, and thus the United States nor Russia could in no way be connected to the operation. As such, the unit had been outfitted with what the major had flatly termed, "Russian made junk."

Instead of the normal desert camouflage pattern of the US Marines, the Major wore a light tan t-shirt coupled with a pair of dark cargo pants that lurked underneath a dark toned assault vest. Securely strapped to the vest itself were two Russian made fragmentation grenades, as well as a single flash-bang stun grenade. A heavy duty combat-belt encircled Barkin's large waist which also held his combat helmet just off to the side, making it easy to reach for once the unit had hit dirt. Slung behind his back was an AK-74, a more modern -if not still slightly outdated by at least 30 plus years- descendant of the infamous AK-47.

Kim and the other marines were similarly outfitted and armed with a variety of Kalashnikov rifles, G3's (_Heckler & Koch G3 Battle Rifles_) and Makarov (_Pistolet Makarova_) sidearms. There was even an old variant of the PKM (_Pulemyot Kalashnikova - Kalashnikov's Machinegun)_ light machine gun amongst them.

Though Kim looked at the weapons with both a mixture of sheer disdain and contempt, she could not help but be impressed with the sheer versatility and overall ruggedness of the weapons. What amazed Kim the most was that the AK-47 and its descendant weapons could either be run over with a tank, dropped into the mud, buried under a sand pit for a year, clogged up with mud or debris, or suffer and encounter a dozen or so other scenarios that could prove quite hazardous to a weapon's maintenance, and yet it would still fire when thoroughly cleaned. But, that ruggedness came at quite a disadvantage; the effective range of the AK-47 was only three hundred and thirty yards, and when compared to five hundred and fifty yard range of the M4, it was quite a disadvantage. As everyone knew, the closer you are, the easier you are able to shoot.

The other problem that Kim had was the lack of body armor and -probably most importantly- the lack of the specialized medical supplies that the US forces had grown accustomed to whilst out and into the field. The mineral agent well known as _QuikClot_, which as the name suggested helped clot the blood and stop the hemorrhaging of an open wound, was such one of those taken for granted commodities that had to be left behind. If someone was injured during the operation, they would just have to rely upon the limited supply of bandages and gauze that were to be taken with them into the combat zone, and then wait for the unit to be evacuated before being able to receive proper medical treatment back upon the _Eilat_.

Kim snapped to a salute, and then quickly stepped out of the older man's way, thus allowing Barkin room to move past her. Barkin returned the salute almost lazily, and then gestured with a nod of the head for Kim to follow him. Surprised, Kim nevertheless fell in behind the Major as he ducked into a hatch that lead into the mid deck of the corvette.

There were several moments of tense silence as Kim followed her commanding officer as they moved past several Israeli sailors attending to their duties aboard the _Eilat_.

"Tell me, Possible, what do you think of the mission?" Barkin asked, finally breaking the silence between the two soldiers.

Kim was silent for a moment. How should she answer? She should tell the CO about how she felt about having to work with the Russians? Or should she respond with the expected confidence of a Marine? Kim decided upon the latter.

"Sir, the Corps are here to kick ass and take names. Ooh-Rah."

"That's not what I asked, Possible. I want to know exactly how you feel about this mission."

It was at that very same moment that Kim had realized that both she and the major had ducked into a deserted side room. She gave her head a slight shake.

"_H__ead in the game, Possible, and keep your head in the game,_" Kim inwardly chided herself. She had never before been this...oblivious to details and her surroundings. It worried her: after all, if she was off of her game because something was bothering her, the consequence could be catastrophic!

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" Kim finally asked, breaking the short but heavy silence between them.

Barkin nodded his consent. Kim had always been calm, focused and collected no matter what the situation was or how dire it was looking, and Barkin and the other marines had come to rely upon Kim's ability to keep a near enough laser like focus upon her job and the tasks at hand. Although Barkin would never show it -much less admit it- the fact that his lieutenant was worried or simply nervous actually _scared_ him.

"I don't like this, sir," Kim finally answered. "Why do we have to work with the Russians? Why couldn't we just take the information, and do the job ourselves?"

Barkin nodded in understanding: he himself had mulled over the same thoughts. "The Russians gave us the info', and the politicians and the higher ups gave them an in. I may not like it, but we have little other choice. Besides, the Spetsnaz are good at their jobs, or so I hear."

"Sir, I have to disagree with you on that matter. **We're** good at our jobs. They're good at being cold-blooded killers," Kim shot back.

Barkin actually lifted an eyebrow in surprise; was this what had been bothering her? "Many people would say that we are cold-blooded killers."

"We don't kill civilians if we can avoid it, sir. With the Russians, it's forty insurgents, a hundred and thirty hostages. A hundred and seventy body bags. Job's done. They don't care who gets caught in the crossfire."

Barkin nodded. The Spetsnaz were indeed ruthless in their duties, a fact that was often made apparent by their very brutal training methods. When Barkin had discovered that his unit would be joined by an exact two dozen soldiers of the Russian Special Forces, he had strongly protested. His protests had been noted and then casually ignored.

"We don't need them, sir. I say we do this thing ourselves, that way we can be sure that the job is done right," Kim continued. She then shook her head slightly, sighing softly as she did so. "Sorry if it got a little personal, sir, but I don't like it when people question my abilities, or those of the Corps."

Before Barkin could respond however, the hatch to the room was thrown open as an Israeli sailor brazenly rushed into the room. He hurriedly came to attention upon noticing the two officers.

"Major Barkin, Lieutenant Possible?" The sailor asked, his English both marred and broken by his heavy accent and rough command of the complicated language, "The captain just received word, over wire. Russians be here in 'bout ten minutes."

After dismissing the sailor with a slight nod, Barkin then cursed under his breath. "Cheese and crackers, not a moment of peace on this tub."

Unbeknownst to Barkin, Kim had heard his muttered 'curse' and thus was desperately fighting the urge to laugh at her CO. Though Major Barkin was probably both the most menacing and imposing man that Kim currently knew of, it had surprised her that the man never actually swore if he could help it. Several times Kim had been almost reduced to a laughing fit by one of Barkin's eloquent 'curses.'

"Possible!" Barkin snapped, making Kim jump to in surprise. Kim gulped as Barkin turned his glare upon her, making her feel like some teen aged student caught breaking the PDA rules of a high school.

"Yes, sir?" Kim asked, herself wondering if Barkin had heard either a giggle or a muffled chuckle from her throat.

"Get the men together. I want everyone fully geared and at the stern of the ship in less then five minutes."

Kim saluted and with a, "Yes, sir!" bolted out of the door as fast as her legs could carry her. Barkin let himself enjoy a brief moment of smug satisfaction.

"_I_ _still got it!"_

Grinning to himself in amusement, he then finally ducked out of the room.

Slowing down from her previous pace of flat-out sprinting to a quick and easy jog, Kim dodged in and out of corridors and hallways.

"_How was he able to do that?"_ Kim wondered silently to herself as she opened a nearby door in order to yellow at the four marines who had been occupying the room to both get their gear and then get out to the stern. "_How the hell was he able to make me feel like some high school student caught skipping a block or breaking some dumb PDA rule?" _As these thoughts crossed her mind, Kim came to an abrupt stop and then suddenly felt quite foolish. "_And why the hell am I running around like some dumb grunt on her first day of basic?"_

Quickly changing direction, Kim once sped off in order to make a direct beeline towards the bridge. Before she could take three steps, however, the _Eilat_'s announcement system crackled to life as Barkin's voice boomed over and through over it.

"All United States Marines, report to the stern of the ship with your gear. Repeat: all United States Marines, report to the stern of the ship with your gear."

Sighing to herself in defeat, Kim once again turned around and then rushed as fast as she could towards the stern. Kim had learned from previous missions to always be prepared. Although it sounded like something straight out of the Pixie Girl Scout troop's "Rules and Guides Handbook," that rule had saved her life so many times that she had lost count. Thus, as a follower of the 'be prepared' rule, Kim already had her gear upon her person, and was ready to go at a seconds notice. This was also a fact that would save her from another thirty minutes of endless ridicule from Barkin for arriving late: Barkin would probably end up mocking her for trying to individually hunt down the two dozen marines that were scattered aboard the tub. A grisly fate, to be sure.

"_Oh well," _Kim sighed. "_Some hardships just come with the job."_

Pushing the door that lead out into the stern open, Kim glanced up and into the sky. The blazing orange sun was slowly sinking into the west, casting a blood red haze across what had once been a brilliantly blue sky. As the sun itself sank and died for the day, Kim quickly spotted two dark and bulky silhouettes that were steadily growing bigger. The cool air was quickly being resonated with the steady and rhythmic thumps of multiple helicopter blades as they sped towards the ship.

The Russians had finally arrived.

* * *

I'm back in Black!

Well it's good to be submitting something finally. Although it's not Brood War, I can promise you guys that thanks to almost half a dozen broken bones, I'll have a new chapter for Brood War, and maybe even Diamonds Guns and Mercs, done by the end of the month.

Thanks go out to by Beta Ormagoden for his great betaing skills.


	3. The Russians

Unfortunately, do to circumstances beyond their control, my superb beta is out of commission. So in order to give them a much needed break I assumed the responsibility and admittedly I'm not that great at catching my mistakes, so if you see a couple shout it out so I can work on it.

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* * *

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The Russians

If there was one thing that _Starshina_ Roman Yurivitch Stopblaski loved about his job, it was the KA-60, the _Kasatka_. The Killer whale.

Pilots and soldiers would often joke that the KA-60 was built like Mother Russia, except it had better reliability. Roman hated it when the men would joke about the Mother Land like that; his family had been shedding blood for his country since the Great Patriotic War of 1941. His great Grandfather had been one of the first tankists to enter Berlin during that final battle. His father had died fighting in Afghanistan, his helicopter brought down by a mujahedeen armed with a shoulder launched American Stinger missile.

Roman had only been three years old when the news of his father's death had reached his home in Volgograd. His family's fortune had quickly degenerated. Though his mother worked in one of the many factories, they had been quite dependent on his father's paycheck to meet their monthly rent. Now that was gone, and his pension was just barely enough to cover the food bill.

A year later the Red Army pulled out of Afghanistan, and the Stopblaski's fortunes took an even worse turn. The factory that Tanya Stopblaskia worked in, went out of business as the Russian command economy began to quickly strangle itself. Now with no work, no money, and a small pension keeping the two from starvation, the family's debt piled up and it looked like they would eventually loose their flat, and be turned out into the streets.

Luckily before that could happen, Roman's grandfather Mikhail Stopblaski upon hearing about Tanya's lack of good luck, brought the two to the small city of Bataysk, helping to raise his son's son, even helping Tanya to find a job teaching at the local school. Although his grandfather was quite old, he wanted Roman to have a father figure in his life, and took an interest in raising Roman, taking him on fishing trips, and (when he was older) out hunting.

It was during these times that Mikhail (or _Dedushka _Misha as Roman would call him) would regale his grandson with tales of the Great Patriotic War. Of how he and his tank crew had smashed through the German armour at Kursk, of how they had chased the Nazis back over the Russian steppes and the Polish planes, and finally carve out the black heart of the Third Reich at Berlin.

Now it was Roman Yurivitch's turn. His turn to show to his family that he too could protect his homeland... That's if he could keep his _borscht_ down. Though Roman loved flying in the KA-60 he had notoriously bad motion sickness, in spite of his often boasted, cast iron stomach. It was said that among the 22nd Guards, that Roman was the only man among them who could regularly dine on the _Individual'nyi Ratsion Pitaniya_ ration packs and not suffer the after effects.

But put Roman in a KA-60, and his breakfast, lunch and dinner usually either ended up being heaved up over the side, or sometimes into his combat helmet. Luckily for Roman, the ride had actually been a smooth one, but on the last legs of their flight, the KA-60 had hit a small patch of turbulence, causing the large bulky helicopter to buck up and down for several seconds.

Several seconds to long as it turned out.

"BLAGGGHH!"

Roman slowly opened his eyes as he stared into the brown paper barf bag that someone had quickly passed him. Breathing a sigh of relief as the helicopter finally settled, Roman caught a glimpse of several handfuls of rubles changed hands.

"**What's going on Keslov?**"Roman breathed as he leaned back into his seat, trying to settle his stomach as the KA-60 finally settled.

Boris Alexivitch Keslov was a great bear of a man, large and seemingly bulging with muscles. Though almost a dozen years older then Roman, Keslov had yet to make (or at least keep) _Mládshiy Serzhánt_ as when ever he was promoted, he would do something, often something to do with alcohol, that would end with his ass busted back down to _Ryadovóy_,not that he seemed to completely mind.

Keslov glanced over at his _Starshina _with a sour look. "**Two hundred rubles on whether you could last more then twenty seconds, **_**Starshina**_**. You just had to last another three seconds! Now I'm out a paycheck! Katyusha's going to kill me for loosing that!**"

Although the man had been betting at his expense Roman joined in the loud, barking laughter at the poor man's misfortune, as it echoed over the sounds of the rotary blades of the helicopter.

Slowly the laughter died as men's minds turned to more depressing thoughts. In a few hours time they would be engaging the enemy, but instead of fellow Spetsnaz at their sides, they would be fighting with American Marines.

A fact that left a bitter taste in Roman's mouth. It was bad enough that Mother Russia had to appeal to the Americans, but the fact that they would be joined by their Marines disgusted him. He kept quite about his complaints though. That was the thing about the Spetsnaz, you didn't complain, and if you did, no one listened. It was just better to keep your mouth shut, and do as you were told.

There were however a few who did not yet understand this simple concept. Vladimir Ivanivitch Yalcotski for example was the FNG of the squad. Of course the poor kid had other problems then just simply being the FNG. Yalcotski was small, thin, and had an almost girlish look about him. But what had singled him out was the fact he was a Ukrainian, and was dumb enough to tell everyone about it. He had joined only a short time ago, and was not fully aware of the rules. _Oh well,_ Roman thought, the kid would soon get the rules beaten into him.

But then again being a _Khokhol _they would probably have to kill him and then beat his ghost half to death before he got it.

"_**Starshina,**_" Yalcotski shouted over the thump of the helicopters blades, "**why are we allowing the Americans to come with us? Why can't we just do this job on are own? God damn bullshit if you ask me.**"

Roman looked over at the young man. "**No one asked for your opinion Yalcotski. So shut your mouth and do your job.**"

The other men nodded, although they very much agreed with Yalcotski, it was better to just concentrate on what needed to be done. A new belt of turbulence sent Roman scrambling for his paper bag as his stomach emptied what was left.

Sometimes Roman wondered why he endured thing like this. Maybe deep down he had some masochist tendencies, maybe he enjoyed what he was put through with the Spetsnaz. Other days he wondered what had possessed him to join.

Then there where days when Roman rolled out of bed his heart pounding, sweat dripping from his forehead. Days where he remembered the steel handcuffs locking him to a small chair in the middle of a dark, cold, cement room. Days where he remembered being beat to near death by trainers and trainees, days of wading through the blood and guts of pigs.

Men had died or had been seriously injured throughout the 'training,' and the causalities had been written off as 'acceptable.' The cost was deemed worth it, Roman supposed, as Russia got what she needed. Soldiers who knew nothing of fear, men who where immune to the horrors of war, men who understood what was needed to win, men who were fully committed to victory.

Roman was positive that the American Marines would lack these qualities with their cushy training and the unwillingness to really get their hands dirty.

Roman felt the KA-60 begin to slow to a stop the doors on the sides opened wide, giving Roman his first view of the sparkling, deep blue, Mediterranean in the fading sunlight. The smell of the sea washed over the squad, blowing out the smell of alcohol and cigarettes that always seemed to gather around the men.

"**Alright girls, we're coming in for a landing.**" Came the barking orders of _Kapitán _Evgenii Kyznetsov. It unsettled Roman that Kyznetsov though with out a doubt, the oldest amoung them he could probably break all of them in half with his bare hands. He was the _Starik_, he was the Old Man. Both respected and feared by his men, as he still could, as Kyznetsov put it; 'put them over his knee and beat the shit out of them if he felt so inclined.'

"**Check your gear, and make sure you got everything. I don't want someone whining to me that they forgot their tampons on the **_**Kasatka **_**in the middle of a firefight.**"

There was a chorus of '_Da Starik __Kapitán!' _as the helicopter finally landed on the _INS Eilat_'s landing pad, and the loud thunder from the blades finally ceased. Roman and the eleven other men whom he had shared a cramped and confined space with filed out, their weapons slung on their backs, their hands covering their heads as the second _Kasatka _landed on the landing pad.

Bones in his shoulders and arms crack, as Roman stretched and pulled them, trying to work the feeling back into them, as he glanced over at the assembled American Marines.

"**Hey **_**Starshina**_**, check out the Americans.**" Keslov snickered as he stepped up behind Roman. "**Whoooo scary marines, I'm already shaking in my boots!**"

At almost the same the two men caught a flash of auburn hair, as a distinctively feminine shape pushed through the assembled marines, to join the great bear of a man who stood at the front. The man, obviously the CO made even Keslov look like a scrawny preteen boy.

As Roman quickly sized up the CO, Keslov nudged him in the ribs. "**Look at that **_**Starshina**_**; the Americans have a woman with them! The American's have all the luck don't they, new weapons, new gear, even attractive females to follow them around!**"

Roman shook his head at the older man. "**Keslov, you're** **complaining. Besides if you want a woman to keep you company, why not just go talk to Yalcotski? He's effeminate enough. I'm sure if you just close your eyes you could convince yourself that he is woman. Well, at least until you woke up and rolled over in the morning.**"

Keslov barked a laugh as he continued to stare at the red-headed marine, who was now engrossed in conversation with the Marine CO. Well not really a conversation, Keslov had seen and received enough dressing downs by senior officers to know one when he saw one.

A loud barking order in Russian suddenly cut through the twilight, and brought the two dozen Spetsnaz operatives to attention. "**Alright ladies, I want you formed up and in formation on the double! Come on move your god damn asses!**"

"_**Da Starik **__**Kapitán**_**!**"Camethe reply of the men, as they quickly formed straight neat ranks.

Across from them the Marines imitated the Russians, Roman was surprised when the woman gave the order. _Okay,_ Roman thought to himself as he like the rest of his squad mates took a new interest in the female marine. _Defiantly an officer, man this is going to be more interesting then I thought._

Roman watched as _Kapitán _Kyznetsov moved up to meet the marine CO, giving the larger man a salute and a quick handshake. The two men quickly fell to talking, and after several minutes of standing ramrod straight, while the bosses talked of strategy, Roman took to squirming, just ever so slightly. Although Roman could relax, marinate as he referred to it, for hours on end, standing still was not one of Roman's strong points.

A loud, barking order quickly snapped Roman back at attention.

"Stopblaski! Get your ass up here now!"

Roman quickly left the formation and snapped to attention, saluting both officers who returned it in kind.

"Major Barkin, this es _Starshina_ Roman Yurivitch Stopblaski." Kyznetsov stated as he nodded his head to Roman. "He es the best sniper under my command. I think he es what you are looking for, Major."

Barkin glared at Roman for several minutes, looking him up and down, His eyes catching the Cyrillic writing carved into the polished wood stock of the Dragunov sniper rifle strapped secularly to Roman's back.

"Can you speak English Stopblaski?" Barkin asked after several seconds.

"Da, sir, I speak et quite well." Roman replied in his rather heavily accented English.

Do speak any other languages?" Barkin asked quite surprised by Roman's answer.

"Da, I know several others." Roman responded, his answers short and crisp.

"What others do you know?"

"Sir, I know German, Polish, Arabic, French and Klingon."

Barkin who had been clearly impressed with Roman's apparent mastery of several languages, did a double take at Roman's frank admission of being able to speak fluent Klingon. Even the marines behind him seemed stunned at the revelation.

"Klingon? Why do I need to know that you know how to speak Klingon?"

Roman's expression never changed as he quickly responded. "Sir you asked what languages I can speak. You did not ask if the languages I knew would be useful."

At that, the assembled marines burst out in loud laughter, even the female marine seemed to be taken aback by Roman's seemingly bold answer. Even Kyznetsov held back a small smile at the Major's look of rage and indignation. A venomous glare from Barkin quickly silenced them, as many stood even straighter, if that was even possible.

"Lieutenant. Front and centre." Barkin ordered, still glaring at the young Russian in front of him, who was attempting to try and make himself seem smaller while not appearing intimated by the hulking officer.

Roman watched as the red haired woman, broke away from the group of marines to join the small group in the centre of the deck. _Strange, _Roman thought to himself. _I didn't think that Americans allowed women to serve in combat roles._

"Captain Kyznetsov, this is my XO 2nd Lieutenant Kim Possible."

Possible quickly snapped a salute, which Kyznetsov quickly returned.

"She also received top marks in what we refer to as Sniper School, and holds the honour of being the only female graduate. Ever."

Both Roman and Kyznetsov brief glanced at the female marine. Kyznetsov was intrigued, while Roman was unimpressed. It was cushy American training after all. Possible just shrugged and muttered about how it was "no big."

"Possible, I want you and Stopblaski to set an observation post at site delta-six. I want you two to keep an eye on the building, confirm that both targets are where they are supposed to be and feed back reports every hour on estimated enemy strength."

"Sir! Yes sir!" Possible said as she snapped a salute.

"Good. You are now call sign 'Watchtower.' You both leave at O-two hundred hours I suggest that both of you get some sleep. Kyznetsov you're with me, we have some plans to finalize before we hit the beach." Barkin said as he dismissed the group.

"Before thes mission es to begin, I must first speak to my men." Kyznetsov claimed, as he gestured for Roman to follow him.

Barkin nodded at the Russians. "Very well, I need to address my boys as well captain."

Kyznetsov and Roman quickly marched back to the assembled Spetsnaz, Roman took his place beside Keslov, who gave Roman a small wink and a nudge with his elbow. Roman rolled his eyes, at the gesture, but immediately focused back on the Old Man as Kyznetsov addressed the two dozen men under his command.

"**Men, you know why we are here. You know why we are working with the Americans. Mother Russia has given us a task that she knows only we can complete. We are the best of the best. The Taliban fear us, Chechens shit their pants when they hear that we might come after them. That is why we cannot fail. The Americans have their own objective, and we have ours. Patolnokov is to be captured at all costs.**"

Kyznetsov, features hardened as he glared at the men. "**Know this: Patolnokov is to be tried and executed by Russians. Should the Americans try and interfere in anyway, or try to take Patolnokov back to the States to stand trial in their courts, you are to kill them. Do you understand me!**"

"_**Da Starik **__**Kapitán**_**!**" The men barked out.

Kyznetsov nodded.

"**Good. Watch yourselves, and good luck. Now go get some sleep, you're going to need it. Dismissed!**"

The men snapped to attention and saluted their captain who returned it in kind. The Russians broke ranks and filed towards the ship eager to put the long chopper ride behind them.

As Roman broke away, heading to the bunks. He stopped to listen to the American CO as he addressed his own men.

"Alright boys... and girl" Barkin amended with a nod to Lieutenant Possible. "I know most of you are concerned with working with the Russians. I am too for a matter a fact. But it doesn't matter. We are here to do a job. We are here to keep some crazy Arab from getting his greasy paws on nuclear materials. So now we got to kick his ass, and guess what? The higher ups decided that it would be the righteous right boot of the Marine Corps that will implant itself in the ass of that crazy Arab. Ooo-rah!"

"Ooo-rah!" Came the enthusiastic chant of the marines.

"What the hell was that? I thought I was in charge of Marines, not some pussy girl scouts! Now, OOO-RAH!"

"OOO-RAH!"

"That still sucked." Barkin chided the group. "One more time! Show me I'm in charge of god damn Marines! Not some queer sailor boys!"

"**OOO-RAH!**"

"Hmm... I guess that'll do... Alright, remember boys, and girl. Do your jobs, and watch each others backs and we all make it home alive. Semper Fi."

Like that the group dispersed, as the Americans followed the Russians into the ship some to their bunks, others to the mess hall. Roman followed behind them, looking forward to a short nap on a rock hard cot.

_It'll be just like back home on the base._ Roman thought as he chuckled to himself, as he disappeared into the ship.

* * *

A little tidbit of what I got planned after Brood War. Posted for your enjoyment.

**

* * *

**

Kim Possible:

_Shadows of Chaos_

The world drifted back into focus as the ringing in ears that was once a cacophony of screaming bells faded into a dull ringing. Shaking his head Ronald de'Stoppabel took several shaky breaths praying to the Lady of the Lake that the past two years had been nothing more than a nightmare. He prayed that he would awake in his bed chamber, his parents alive and the Crown of Bretonnia safe in his father's hands and that his evil cousin's Shawn's bloody coup was nothing more then dreamt up fantasies.

His eyes creaked open and Ron groaned. He was not in his bed chamber. That meant that the past two years of what had been ceaseless wanderings across the known world while blundering into what had seemed an ever increasing amount of trouble was to continue.

Instead of strong stone walls and magnificent tapestries of Ron's beloved Bretonnia, there were great twisted trees wreathed in a thick white fog surrounded him. Dark red, armour clad bodies draped in great, flowing black capes lay dotted across the cold blood soaked ground. Worst of all however, was the brass rune skull of the Chaos God Khorne that was stamped onto each of the Warriors plate armour.

_Lady help me! What have I done to deserve this fate? _Ron pouted to himself, as he reached blindly for his fallen sword. His gauntleted fingers grasped the hilt, as two strong; hands grabbed Ron from under his arms, and hauled him to his feet with seemingly little effort.

"_Cho'Ata_ should be more careful." Lotxa'kota hissed in his dry lisp, as the pale-blue, bronze armoured Saurus pushed past Ron, lifting his large stone mace with little effort. "The _Tli'ax _ssstill sssurround usss. Make ready."

Ron shook his head once more, trying to regain his balance, clear the fog from his head and attempting to translate the hulking Lizardsman's blunt, lisping language. Not noticing the shadow that was cast on to him, not seeing the red armoured giant raise a wicked axe, preparing to cleave the exiled prince's head from his shoulders.

"Ron! Behind you!" Tara's voice cried out from the mist, instantly shaking Ron awake, and pulling him from the recesses of his mind. Ron's dark brown eyes widened behind his visor, as he tried desperately to raise his shield and ward off the blow, already knowing that it was too late, he would die here.

The Warrior of Khorne screamed out his god's cry, knowing that he had the favour of Khorne

"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!"

_Home is behind  
_

Scarcely had the phrase past his lips when an arrow struck him in the eye, driving through his skull, and jutting out from the other side of his helm. The warrior dropped backwards, as Tara returned Ron's nod of thanks, as he lifted his shield and stepped back, re-joining the rest of their friends.

More forms slowly emerged from the dense fog; their weapons unsheathed seemingly gleaming with a tainted malice. Tara's eyes darted around the fog enshrouded glade, quickly counting more then a score of the red armoured Servants of Chaos. Tara slowed her breathing and calmly notched another arrow to her elven bow. The world became empty for her; there was nothing, no wind, no trees, no mist. Just her, the arrow and the target, Tara's breath became deep as she blocked out everything, aimed her arrow and with a gentle breath, let her bow sing.

_The world ahead  
_

Kim ducked as she felt arrow whip past her, catching a warrior in the throat. Kim rolled to her feet, casting a withering glare back at the blonde Wood Elf, who merely gave the High Elf a wink, before notching another arrow.

Kim cursed under her breath, making several threats of bodily harm, before launching herself at the charging enemy. A serrated bladed axe swung towards her head, ducking beneath the blow, Kim dodged behind the armoured Warrior driving her foot into the back of his legs. Unable to keep his balance, the Warrior of Khorne fell forward, exposing the back of his unprotected neck. Kim's thin bladed sword struck quickly stabbing deep into the neck, severing the Warrior's spine, and cutting into his throat.

Another of Khorne's servants charged her, swinging a great two handed blade. Leaping back, Kim pulled her sword out from the dead man's throat with a sickening wet _schllunk_ and rolled quickly to the side, the massive sword just grazing her fur lined cloak. Rolling to her feet, Kim's eyes widened as she leaned back, as the giant blade swung past her, the tip just a hair's breathe from her throat.

Catching her balance, Kim launched herself at the Warrior, twisting around the great sword as the Warrior of Khorne thrust forward, attempting to skewer the High Elf on his massive sword. Dodging around the great blade Kim closed the distance with Warrior, striking deep into his unprotected side, beneath his arm. Blood dripped from the man's demonic helm, as it quickly filled his mouth.

_And there are many paths to tread  
_

Kicking the Warrior off her sword, Kim turned to rejoin her friends, just as six more Warriors burst from the mist, weapons raised, and charging straight at her.

"Oh, this isn't good." Kim muttered to herself, as she crouched down into a fighting position.

The Warriors came closer, their heavy armour clanking as they ran at full tilt, the war cry of their god echoing over the din of battle.

"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!"

Suddenly, a great wave of flame erupted through the mist, burning through the dense fog, and catching the six charging Warriors. Kim winced as the six men screamed, as their flesh cooked inside their armour. The smell of burning hair and skin almost caused Kim to puke, as the smoldering forms collapsed onto the cold, forest floor.

"Careful, Possible." Felix called out, as he leaned heavily on his staff, a grin etched across his face as chided Kim. "I won't always be around to save you!"

Felix smiled again, as another Warrior charged at him. With barley a glance he threw out his hand with a muttered incantation. A great ball of fire erupted from Felix's hand, as he sent it careening towards the hapless Warrior. The armoured man screamed once before the great ball of fire consumed him.

_Through shadow  
_

Stepping back with a satisfied smirk on his face, Felix turned back towards his companions, watching in almost amusement as his friends fought against Khorne's servants, who were now totally consumed by bloodlust, throwing themselves against the party, heedless to their losses.

Ron caught a sword blow with his shield, the glancing blow scarring the polished metal and jarring the knight's arm. Ron swung his own sword at the unprotected side of the Warrior. The armoured man recovered quickly however and caught Ron's sword with his own. The swords rasped against each other, as the two men sought to overpower the other. Ron glared up at the armoured giant as he felt himself being slowly pushed back, knowing that if he didn't do something quickly he'd be at quite the disadvantage.

Leaping back suddenly the Warrior was thrown off balance, giving Ron the opening he needed. As the red armoured Warrior, caught himself, Ron smashed the edge of his shield into the head of Chaos servant. The blow sent the armoured man reeling and unable to recover and unable to stop Ron's fey blessed blade as it cut deep into the servant's blood red armour, and in to his chest.

Dark red blood squirted from the wound, as Ron pulled his sword from the Warrior, who groaned, as he swayed on his feet, unwilling to collapse and die. As Ron raised his sword to deliver a final blow, a heavy war hammer smashed into the side of the Warrior's helm, crushing the demonic helmet, and sending him sprawling to the ground with a heavy thud.

_To the edge of night  
_

Bodies of the Chaos worshippers littered the forest floor. Dark red blood pooled beneath them as it leaked from their many wounds. The Companions panted heavily as they rejoined each other, taking care not to step in the large, slick pools of blood.

Josh panted, whipping off flecks of blood and gore with a free hand, as he sat down on top of one of the fallen.

"Well that was... interesting. Don't you think Bretonnian?" The Warrior Priest of Sigmar grinned as he leaned his hammer against the red armoured body.

Ron shrugged as he sheathed his own sword and dropped his shield to the ground with a heavy thud, before removing his own helm, breathing in the cold wet air.

"To tell the truth, Josh, I was expecting more from them." Ron answered, as he slowly spun his pot helm in his hands, examining the small dent in the back of the helmet, where a glancing blow from a mace, had thrown him to the ground.

"But, then again we are guided by the Lady!" Ron grinned in enthusiasm. "We cannot fail with such a blessing!"

"Ron, are you alright?"

Both Ron and Josh jumped; neither had heard Kim coming up from behind them. "I saw the hit you took."

Before Ron could answer, a small but incredibly strong hand forced his head down, blatantly ignoring his protests while another parted his long blonde locks in search of a trace of any injury.

"Ah! Kim! Quit it!" Ron whined, as he tried to struggle free of his tormentor. "I'm fine! Seriously! The helmet absorbed the blow! See?"

Kim ignored the offered helmet, and the smirking glances of some of her companions, as she continued her administrations. So caught up in her search, she neither noticed Josh's hand tightening around the shaft of his hammer, nor did Kim notice Tara's blue-eyed glare.

_Until the stars are all alight_

"Ah, quit it Possible." The Battle Wizard Felix laughed. "If you're worried about something being broken, it should be that mace. That poor thing never stood a chance against Ron's skull!"

Neither Kim, Ron, nor the normally stoic Dwarven Engineer and Runesmith Wadoic, could keep from chuckling. The giant lizard, Lotxa'kota merely hissed, his yellow unblinking eyes staring off into the fog enshrouded forest, searching for any further sign of the enemy. Tara and Josh allowed a ghost of a smile to touch their lips, neither willing to break their untrusting glares with Kim.

A feeling of unease came over the two of them, as it had the first time they had met Kimila of the noble house Possible. Both Wood Elf and priest had never made their concerns heard, though they both had talked a great deal together and had agreed to watch their companion, with the utmost care and caution. Lest their spying damage the unity of the group, too much was riding on them for the seven of them, to risk infighting. The great Slann Mage-Priest, Lord Adohi-Tehga had warned them of the consequences of failure.

"_Cho _should not be laughing ssso much." Lotxa'kota hissed, without a glance back at the four.

"Oh and why is that ya great lump of a lizard?" Wadoic grumbled as he turned to glare at the Saurus.

_Mist and shadow_

"The _Dro'ka'khanx _is blind and foolish. The _Tli'ax_ comes again." Lotxa'kota lisped with a gesture of his great mace.

In an instant the six warriors were on their feet, weapons drawn, as dozens more of the red armoured, blacked caped Warriors of Chaos emerged from the mist, and moved slowly towards the seven heroes.

Tara quickly notched an arrow, picking a target she pulled it back and released. The arrow cut through the air before striking her target through the visor in his helm. Without breaking stride, another Warrior shoved the dead one aside.

Suddenly, the servants of Khorne came to a stop a dozen paces from their enemies. Their weapons undrawn, just staring at the seven heroes, as though challenging them to make the next move. Another arrow from Tara caught a Warrior in the throat, but even as the man collapsed, gurgling and choking on his own blood; none moved to attack.

"Um, why are they just standing there?" Ron asked, as his eyes, no longer confined by his helm, quickly darted around making quick estimates of the number of the Chaos cultists. "Shouldn't they be... you know attacking us or something? Not that I'm complaining about them just standing there of course."

"Maybe there afraid of us? After all we did just kill a lot of their men" Kim whispered back to Ron, her voice carrying the confidence that they could handle whatever was thrown at them.

"No. You're wrong Kim." Josh said, without looking at her. "These are Warriors of Khorne, the Blood God. The God of hate, war, and violent death." _  
_

"So..." Kim shrugged "What does that have to do with anything?"

Josh shook his head. "Khorne demands are simple: Blood must flow freely. He demands killing and the more violent, the more senseless, the more destructive the more He gains power. It doesn't matter to Him whose blood is spilled in battle, as long as it is; a servant's blood flows just as well as an enemy's, but blood must be spilled."

A great thundering crash, ripped through the silence that had crept over the forest, as though one of the ancient trees was tossed aside but something large, and powerful. Great footsteps shook the forest floor as the Warriors of Khorne parted, creating a large path between them.

Josh's eyes widened as a great black shadow, that towered over the Warriors emerged from the mist. Great, black, whispering shadows wiped around the beast, showing flashes of its scaly, blood red hide before disappearing behind a veil of blackness.

A great arm, bulging with muscle and littered with long jagged scars gripped a wicked looking sword that looked half again as tall as the largest of the Chaos Warriors. Though the other arm did not grip a weapon, the hand flexed open, revealing a great paw that could easily crush the life out of a victim, or impale the poor soul on one of its many talons. Two great leathery wings snapped open once before folding up, behind the beasts shoulders. Two fiery, red eyes gleaming with malice, glared at the seven heroes, while great maw filled with razor sharp fangs was pulled back in a viscous smile. The maw opened wide as the creatures booming voice thundered throughout the woods, shattering the brittle silence.

"THE DARK ELF SPOKE TRUE! FINALLY! THE GREAT KHORNE HAS PROVIDED TRUE WARROIRS FOR ME TO TEST!"

_Cloud and shade_

"By holy Sigmar." Josh whispered.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Ron gathered his nerve and tried (but failed) to keep his voice from trembling. "K-K-Kim, what is that thing?"

Before Kim could answer her terrified companion, Josh spoke up.

"What you see Bretonnian, is Khorne's wrath made manifest. A champion who has been so blessed by his God that he has ascended. Becoming a Daemon Prince. Sigmar help us."

Felix crept behind Ron and whispered just loudly enough so only his friends could hear him. "Keep it busy and away from me. I know one spell that may just save us from this demon."

"Easier said then done, wizard." Kim bit back sarcastically.

"Trust me." Felix smiled with a wink.

Ron nodded. "Alright Felix, we will keep it off you, you have my word."

The Daemon Prince snapped its wings open once again, as it slashed at the empty air with its great blood red sword. "YOUR FALSE GODS WILL NOT SAVE YOU HERE MORTALS! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!"

The great demon then charged, its great strides seeming to shake the very earth itself. To the daemon's delight six of the heroes it had come to kill ran forward to meet its charge. Khorne would be pleased to have the skulls of such warriors decorating His throne. With earth shattering force, the Daemon Prince swung his sword down to cleave the she High Elf in twain.

At the last moment, Kim twisted to the side, and racked her own enchanted blade across the demon's great arm. Dark, almost black, burning blood, spewed from the wound, as Kim leapt forward to press her advantage. _  
_

Felix watched just for a moment as his friends attacked the beast, then closed his eyes and drew from his belt, a large, string drawn leather pouch. The pouch, though seemingly unimportant, was perhaps Felix's most valuable possession. For it contained a substance worth kingdoms to those of magical powers: Wizard's sand.

Felix took a deep breath then began to chant while he slowly poured the gleaming white sand into a perfect circle. Outside the circle Felix continued to chant as he wrote intricate glyphs in the sand, knowing that if he stumbled over a phrase, or made even one slight mistake in the drawing of the glyphs, he would die and his soul would be forfeit.

_All shall fade_

Ron winced as Lotxa'kota was sent flying by a backhand. The giant Saurus slammed into a tree with a loud crack, and fell to the ground, before leaping back into the fight without the even the slightest hiss of pain. The Daemon Prince, however, was not going down. Its body was littered with arrows as Tara dodged from tree to tree firing off arrow after arrow as she ran. Kim and Ron had both scored numerous hits, cutting into the Prince's flesh, while Josh's hammer and Lotxa'kota's mace, seemed to only amuse the demon.

"COME MORTALS! I'M WAITING TO BE IMPRESSED!" The demon bellowed, taunting the heroes.

The Demon's blade came swinging down on Josh, who swiftly threw himself to the side as the great blade came crashing down. Jumping to his feet Josh turned to the creature, only to see that instead of raising its weapon easily, it struggled as though it was trying to lift a burden greater then it could carry.

To the side of the battle, Wadoic lifted a stone tablet, with a glowing green ruin etched into its surface.

"I don't know how long this will hold him!" Wadoic shouted to his friends, "Try to end it quickly!" Already cracks were beginning to form in the stone, as the Daemon's power outmatched those of the Runesmith's

Kim nodded, and leapt onto the daemon's arm, quickly running up the limb, before flipping off the creatures shoulder, and slamming her blade deep into the Daemon Prince's back.

"Felix whatever you're going to do, do it now please and thank you!" Kim screamed as the Prince let out an unearthly howl.

With the glyphs completed, Felix stepped into the circle barely acknowledging Kim's plea and ignoring the pain as the Winds of Magic tore through him. His chanting picked up pace as Felix closed his mind off to waking world, ignoring the blood that now poured from his nose and ears. Blood filled his mouth, staining his teeth red and the glyphs began spinning as Felix's chanting reached a crescendo. As the last phrase passed his blood stained lips, Felix's eyes snapped open, ablaze with power and he slammed his staff into the ground with a thunderous crack.

Burning white light, erupted from the circle which immediately evaporated, as Felix collapsed exhausted. The light brunt through the mist, and lit the forest up, burning away all traces of mist and fog. Chaos Warrior's screamed as they were reduced ash inside the armour, as the wave of light washed over them.

The Daemon Prince screamed in pain as many of its wounds opened wider, and great hunks of flesh were torn from its body. Its black blood flowed freely onto the forest floor, causing the living plants to wither and die.

Collapsing onto all fours, the Daemon Prince panted, as its blood dripped from its great maw. Kim pulled her sword from its back and stabbed it once again, forcing its head back in pain. Seeing their chance Ron rushed forward and stabbed into the beast neck. The Daemon gave one last howl of pain before it collapsed. Dead.

Kim leapt off the dead creature's body, her adrenaline pumping, her eyes gleaming with excitement, and joy from the fight. It was in these moments, that Kim knew she was losing the war that raged inside her.

Unable to control herself, Kim felt an evil grin spread across her lips, as she whispered a phrase so quietly, that not even Tara's sensitive ears could hear the evil that bled from Kim's lips.

_All shall fade_

"Blood for the blood God."

* * *

A/N (Just in case anyone is confused):

**Bretonnia**: A feudal land ruled by knights, very much like Medieval Britain and France

**Lady of the Lake**: Goddess of Bretonnia. Knights go questing to find her and drink from her cup which grants them mystical powers. Only the bravest and most honourable can find her.

**Khorne**: Considered the most powerful of the Chaos Gods. He is the god of war, hate and violence, but is also the god of honour and martial might.

**Saurus**: Giant Lizardmen, who serve the Slann. They are incredibly tough as their scaly hides act as armour. They cannot speak in languages known to man, but I got an explanation for that. Don't worry.

_**Cho'Ata**_: Means Warm blood of Prophecy

_**Tli'ax**_: Servants of Chaos

**Lotxa'kota**: Name meaning Slayer of Skaven

**Sigmar**: God of the Empire, and their first Emperor

**Slann Mage-Priest**: Rulers of the Lizardmen, and the first beings to walk the Warhammer world. Even the youngest are older then the most ancient of Elves.

_**Cho**_: Means Warm blood, or foolish/ignorant

_**Dro'ka'khanx**_: Those who delve. Literally: Dwarves

**Skaven**: Giant Ratmen mutated by Chaos.

**Empire**: The largest and most powerful of all nations in Warhammer.

I know that I'm not exactly true with the Warhammer Fantasy but I will have explanations!

* * *

Well, you all are probably wondering, 'what the hell happened to GKN?' Well to make a long story short, I was injured at work, and our son was born at the end of August! So I've been a little busy, but now, thanks to the sleepless nights, I'm back on track! Anyway I hope you enjoyed this little tidbit that I wrote while trying to figure out what's going on with Brood War.


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